


Stay Stay Stay

by isengard



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Make up sex, Songfic, boys talking about feeeeeeelings, but he also has his old apartment from when he was nightwing because I decided okay shh, dick as batman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-14
Updated: 2012-11-14
Packaged: 2017-11-18 16:12:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/562923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isengard/pseuds/isengard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Stay, and I’ll be loving you for quite some time.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay Stay Stay

“You really _don’t_ understand, Jason, because you’re not fucking _there_ ,” Dick spits, throwing the empty box of cereal in the trash with far more force than is necessary. “I can’t fucking deal with this kid, and then on top of everything, I come home to find this fucking _mess_ – ”

“I’m sorry, I forgot _I_ was your goddamn housekeeper.” Jason’s voice is dripping with cruel sarcasm. “Get _him_ around here to clean up. Sounds like he could use some discipline anyways.”

“Yeah, invite Damian into my apartment. Great fucking idea. Kid’ll probably snap and kill us both in our sleep.”

“ _Your_ apartment,” Jason breathes, drawing himself up tall. “Right. Well, I’ll just get my stuff and clear out of _your_ apartment, then.”

“Yeah, whatever! That’s fine. Not like you’re doing shit to help out around here, anyways.” Dick sits down heavily on the stool and glowers at the crusty pizza boxes lining the counter. “Nice diet you have, by the way.”

“Okay.” Jason holds up his hands. “You know what, Dick, I’m done with this conversation. You want me gone, fine. I’m gone in the morning, and you can be pouty and shitty all by yourself.” He straps his gun in and throws open the window. “I’m going on patrol – _don’t_ follow me – I’ll sleep on the couch when I get back. Take a fucking Xanax or something.”

But when Jason comes back from patrol, he doesn’t go to the couch, and Dick pretends to be asleep when the bed dips down under his weight as he slides silently in, smelling like blood and gunpowder, and the skin of Dick’s back prickles as though the foot of space between them is electrically charged. Dick keeps his breath steady and low and his muscles relaxed, but his eyes are wide open, and he knows that he doesn’t really want Jason to leave at all.

He must fall asleep eventually, because the next thing he knows, it’s morning, and Jason is crashing around in the bathroom, tapping his toothbrush against the sink like he always does when he’s running through something in his head. Dick blinks at the sunlight streaming in through the window and then hauls himself up out of bed, stretching and yawning his way to the bathroom door, knocking on the wall as he approaches, as if Jason hasn’t been listening since the moment his eyes opened.

“Jay – Jason,” he starts, rubbing his eyes and trying to remember all the things he’d been thinking about before he drifted off. “I – we should talk. About last night.”

Jason drops his toothbrush and sighs, gripping the sides of the sink. “Yeah, all right. Give me a second.”

Dick waits in the bedroom, perched on the edge of the bed in his frayed Robin boxers; identical to the ones Jason was buried in all those years ago. He swallows hard and rubs a bruise on his collarbone, courtesy of Damian. God, he doesn’t know _what_ he’s gonna do about that fucking kid. He _wants_ to help him – knows the kid is putting up a front, knows he’s probably scared and confused just like he was at that age, but it’s so damn _hard_ to reach him. Not that Tim was always the easiest kid in the world either, but they had that common ground, that kinship that bonded them right from the start. He doesn’t know how to reach Damian in that way. 

“Okay.” Dick looks up to see Jason in the doorway, legs apart in a tense battle stance, arms crossed across his bare chest. He’s wearing his Nightwing boxers – and his helmet, the Iron-Man looking contraption that turns him into the Red Hood. “Let’s talk.”

And Dick can’t help it. He presses his lips together and manages to hold it back for a few seconds, but then one giggle bubbles out, and his shoulders sag, and he laughs and laughs and laughs.

“Oh, my god,” he finally gasps, wiping a tear out from under his eye. “Jay, just – just stay, okay? Just stay.” His shoulders are still shaking, and his mouth is starting to hurt from grinning. “I love you.”

Jason takes long, slow steps over to the bed, and Dick places a hand on his hip and leans into him, the dark trail of hair on Jason’s abdomen brushing against his forehead. There’s a clicking sound, and then the helmet falls to the floor, it’s empty gaze staring up at him. He lifts his chin to look at Jason, who’s wearing a smirk that makes his stomach flip.

“I always stay, Dickie,” he murmurs, sliding callused fingers under Dick’s jaw.

“Wish I could figure out why,” Dick mumbles, half to himself, but Jason doesn’t miss it, of course, and the next thing he knows, he’s pinned to the bed between Jason’s thighs, and Jason’s muscled torso is hovering above him, holding his wrists over his head, blue-grey eyes fierce and bright.

“Don’t be a fucking idiot,” Jason hisses. “You _know_ why.”

“I mean, I guess all your stuff’s here – ”

Jason’s mouth is on his with a growl, and they’re nipping and snarling and biting at each other, but it’s just a game, just a macho showdown that they have to have before they lay it all out and talk about _feelings_. Dick strains against Jason’s grip without actually wanting to be free, and Jason tightens his hold until it’s painful; enough to leave bruises. He’ll kiss them away later, maybe in front of the fire. It’s winter in Gotham, and frost has been creeping onto the edges of his windows in the dead of night, like it knows it’s not welcome.

“I’m always _going_ to stay,” he continues, dragging his teeth along the bruise on Dick’s collarbone. “And I’m always going to eat pizza, and I’m always going to leave dishes in the sink, and if _you_ leave, Dickie, I’ll just follow you.” He presses a kiss to the juncture of Dick’s neck and shoulder, tender, just a hint of teeth. Dick sighs and arches a little, licking his lips.

“Tell me why, Jay?” He doesn’t pretend like he’s not begging for it; Jason gets off on it, loves to play keep-away until Dick’s a whining, pleading, needy mess. It’s torture, and they both love every second of it.

Jason lets his hands slide down Dick’s arms, releasing his wrists, palms settling over his chest in an almost-caress. “Because,” he says slowly. “It’s you and me, Grayson. You’re it.” His mouth crooks in a seldom-used smile, earnest and reverent, as he kisses the corner of Dick’s mouth. “I love you. Of course I’m staying.”

“I was a jerk,” Dick says grimly. “I wish I could just figure out how to deal with Damian.”

“You weren’t that bad,” Jason shakes his head. “It’s kind of cute, honestly, when you get all worked up. Especially in the cowl.” He grins. “Sets you apart, I think. It’s a good thing.”

Dick smiles ruefully and then lets out a little moan as Jason thumbs at his nipples, the heels of his palms scraping against the sensitive skin under his ribs. “You really – _ah_ – think so?”

“Mm-hm,” Jason nods, straightening up onto his knees and letting his hands trail down to skim the edges of Dick’s waistband. “I also think you’ll figure out that kid, if you just give it some time. I know you think I don’t know – ”

“No, Jay, shit – I didn’t mean it, when I said that. I just – I mean, you’ve seen him. He’s incredible, but he doesn’t really know what we’re up against, and I just worry – oh, _fuck_ , okay, we have to stop talking about Damian now,” he groans. “I can’t think about a ten year old when you’re doing _that_.”

Jason looks up from where he’s mouthing him through his boxers and grins wickedly. “Kinky, Dickie.”

“I swear to god, Jason – ” he gasps, biting down on his fist as his cock strains against its confines, wet spots darkening the light blue fabric.

“I’m listening,” Jason murmurs darkly, sliding Dick’s boxers off, taking care to drag the elastic edge all the way down Dick’s swollen cock, making him shudder all over. He leans over the side of the bed and returns half a second later with a bottle of lube, and Dick feels his balls tighten in anticipation.

It’s always the best when Jason’s trying to prove something.

Dick’s not sure what he’s trying to prove this time. Maybe that he’s a good friend, or a good fuck, or potentially a good boyfriend – husband – whatever they are; whatever they will become. Sometimes Jason opens him up rough, mixing spit with lube and scissoring into him, keeping him trapped against the wall or the bed or the table with one arm. Sometimes Jason likes to see how little foreplay he can get away with; shoving into Dick before he’s ready, holding him down and waiting until their breaths match to start fucking him. Sometimes, Jason wants Dick riding him, wants Dick’s forearm tight against his throat, wants Dick to call the shots and drag it out for as long as possible, under threat of bodily harm, if that’s what it takes.

This time, Jason’s touch is steady and lavish, fingers dripping with lube as he strokes in gentle circles around Dick’s hole until every nerve ending he possesses is screaming for it. He looks up at Jason – whispers, “ _Please_ ,” – and only then does Jason slip those fingers in, first one, teasing around his prostate, then two, massaging it, worshiping it – then three, _finally_ , fucking him open, stretching him out, and Dick’s pulled tighter than a violin string, hissing his exhales through clenched teeth, whimpering without really hearing himself do it every time Jason’s fingers slide out.

Then, and he’s either seriously gone or Jason just somehow navigated around the entire fingers-to-cock transition without breaking for even half a second, it’s the head of Jason’s cock pushing in, the most welcome sensation Dick knows, the piece of him he’s always missing. He hooks his ankles around Jason’s neck and grips his arms, sighing with pleasure as Jason tilts his hips up and goes deeper, harder, hitting that spot every other time, little muttered curses escaping through his lips.

It’s a slow build; they’re rocking together like waves finding their stride in the ocean, hands slippery with sweat, the air around them hot and damp. Dick feels a lump in his throat for reasons he can’t explain as his orgasm starts to form, deep in the pit of his stomach, curling his toes, making him clench around Jason desperately, saying, “Jay, I’m gonna – ” and Jason stutters out a short breath in agreement like he’s almost there himself, and wraps a fist around Dick’s aching cock, jacking him fast and sure.

“Come on, Dickie,” he mutters hoarsely. His eyes are glassy; voice wrecked, veins standing out on either side of his neck. Dick thinks he’s _so_ goddamn beautiful. “Come for me. I’m right behind you.”

Dick’s going to say something back, but then it crashes over him, and he’s gasping and shouting and his legs are shaking and Jason’s fist is filthy with come, and he feels the telltale throb inside him that means Jason wasn’t lying.

Jason collapses weakly over him, and Dick runs soothing hands down his back, feeling their hearts race together, skin steaming and clouding his vision. “ _Fuck_.”

He gets a grumble of assent from Jason, and they stay like that, clinging together bonelessly for a few minutes before Jason sighs and slides out of him. Eyes still closed, he frowns and gropes blindly at any part of Jason he can reach.

“Don’t go,” he mumbles.

Then Jason’s chest is pressed up against his back like a promise, and Dick becomes aware of the fact that his entire bed is basically the wet spot.

“You really should clean up around here,” Jason chides teasingly in his ear.

“Go fuck yourself,” Dick retorts, trying to hide his smile.

“Mm,” Jason nuzzles at his hair. “Wouldn’t want to deprive you, Dickie.”

He _could_ say something snarky back, and there are about twenty different witty replies on the tip of his tongue, but he’s warm, and Jason is warm, and he stayed – they _both_ stayed, which is a hard-learned habit for anyone, but especially them.

So he doesn’t say anything back, just hunches his shoulders to wrap Jason’s arms tighter around him, and bites his lip with happiness as Jason breathes against his hair. Damian’s probably bisecting his furniture with a katana, and Elliot’s probably doing some kind of extortion dance with Alfred, and he’s probably got twenty messages on each of his phones, but _this_ is what Dick needs right now. Everything else can wait.


End file.
